The (Mis)Adventures of CMDR Branch

Date:June 22, 3302

Ending Balance: 86.3m

A light splashed across the wreck in front of me, bringing me out of my reverie. I tensed, anticipating the splash of laser fire hitting the hull & tearing through it, with no shield to protect it.

But the flare of light disappeared as a brilliant flash happened in the distance clear of the wreckage field. The flash of a ship jumping to supercruise. Then came a second flash & my pursuers were gone. I pushed a small amount of power to the sensors & opened the ship’s heat vents. If anyone were left behind, it still shouldn’t resolve into a contact unless they were exceedingly close.

To my relief, the sensors showed nothing but wreckage in the field, the extra free-floating cargo I had left behind presumably scooped or destroyed. But I had succeeded in my task, the Rebel Transmissions secured in the cargo hold.

I brought the rest of the Phantom’s subsystems back to life. The credits I’d spent on that 6A power plant had made all the difference once again, absorbing an enormous amount of the heat generated from silent running. It left us appear as cold as the wrecked ships surrounding us, making us invisible to the ships after us & the transmissions.

When we’d first dropped in, the ship could only identify degraded emissions & a handful of cargo contacts. I’d pushed the Phantom into the debris field, knocking aside hull fragments & what remained of an Eagle. The prize lay in front of me: a private data stash & a cargo canister holding rebel transmissions.

The woman in black at Neumann Camp had regarded me coolly after we landed. Her demeanor made it clear she was used to only dealing with the best. She made no small talk and, to her credit, didn’t scoff when pulling up my Pilot’s Federation license. She nodded to me curtly, then pulled Anderson aside to talk further, leaving me to tend to getting the Phantom fueled & prepped for launch.

Anderson returned shortly & simply said “She’s happy enough. As I said, we’ve got four tasks to get through. They’re going to load up a small delivery for LFT 926, as well as this data cache to deliver to Nuenets. We’ll be on a bit of a time crunch, but nothing insane. Once we’ve delivered those, she’ll pass on the details for the other missions.”

I nodded then gestured to the stairs on the front landing gear. “Feel free to climb aboard, I’m almost done with the flight prep.”

As Anderson climbed into the Python, the woman in black approached me. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked briskly. “We normally only accept the Elite.”

“I will not fail. You deliveries will be made & I have no reason to shy away from anything else you have in store for me.” I said simply.

She gave a small nod. “Make sure you watch your comms. My follow-up tasks will be encrypted, Anderson has the decrypt key. Try to keep him, the cargo & yourself in one piece & watch your six. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I said & she left me to the final checklist. I finished as quickly & thoroughly as I could, then climbed aboard, mulling over her words.

The deliveries went quickly & with much incident, other than an attempted interdiction by a lowly pirate whom we left rolling & pitching in normal space. Once both deliveries had been confirmed, the comms lit up with a message. As expected, it was encrypted, but like nothing I had ever seen before. “Not even the military takes the communiques this seriously,” I thought to myself as Anderson started the decryption.

His face drew tight as he read our next tasks aloud. “The good news is that we’re doing a bit of... salvage... work. Two things to pick up back in Nuenets, near C 4. The bad news is, we’re not the only ones after it. And that’s the easy job.”

I immediately started the launch procedure & as we lifted off the pad, I asked “And the hard job?”

“There’s a hostage in Arro Naga, low credit ransom but important to the Dark Wheel. Intelligence says it’s been dropped at an isolated spot on one of the planets. We have a rough location & initial data indicates the capsule is not alone, with some armed sentry drones guarding it.” Anderson finished quietly as we crossed the fields in the mailslot.

I plotted a course for Nuenets C 4, then eyed the scanner as we pulled away from the station. A Viper Mk IV & Vulture flew in a loose formation several kilometers back but kept pace with us. When I changed course, they’d slowly drift into line with it.

I snapped up the nav computer & redirected us to Akandi. As soon as the jump was plotted, I pulled hard on the stick & hit boost, snapping us around almost 180 degrees & started the jump.

“What are you doing?” Anderson looked confused.

“We’ve got company, Viper & Vulture, 7 o’clock 4.5 km & closing.” I grimaced as we left the safety of the stations’s no-fire, knowing the two ships could open fire if they wanted to. “I’m doing multiple hops, in hopes of making it hard to follow our wakes.” Anderson nodded quietly as the computer gave the jump countdown & we were gone.

With each jump, there was a longer & longer lag time before the two contacts would appear behind me. After the third jump, I moved to the far side of the star & we headed to Nuenets. Neither ship appeared on the scanner before we jumped. I wanted to believe we’d lost them, but Anderson’s face told a very different story.

“What’s the plan?” Anderson asked as the dazzling colors & lights of witchspace flashed around  the ship.

“I’m just trying to get a lead on them; give us a chance to get to the salvage before they can get to us.” I said, hoping there was more confidence in my voice than in my head.

We arrived in Nuenets & I pushed the Phantom to full throttle. Beyond several thousand light-years, ship scanners lose the ability to neatly identify contacts. With any luck, we’d blend in with the local system traffic when our pursuers arrived.

Finding the salvage was not difficult & we exited supercruise into normal space. Before us was a large field of debris. It was clear a medium sized battle had taken place her not long before. I zeroed in on the cargo, scooping it as quickly as possible without damaging it. I turned the Phantom toward the private data cache & activated the scanners, then glanced at the chrono.

“We’re running out of time. I’d guess less than 2 minutes before they arrive. Damn, I knew I should’ve jumped once or twice more.” I pounded my chair in frustration. “It’s not enough time to get clear & jump.”

Anderson sat quietly, regarding me & obviously doing some thinking himself. Abandoning the data cache wasn’t an option, not unless he was done piloting forever, something I was sure the Dark Wheel would make happen.

An idea came to me & as the scanner finished downloading the data, I began snapping off subsystems as quickly as I could. The temperature in the Python began to plummet & for good measure, I activated a heat sink before closing all the ship’s heat vents. In silent running, the Phantom would live up to her name, becoming nothing more than a wisp on scanners.

As the heat sink cooled to the temperature of the surrounding metal, two ships flashed into existence at the edge of the field. Without scanners, I couldn’t ID them, but I didn’t need the ship’s computer to tell me it was the Viper & the Vulture. Despite the rapidly closing distance, I could see their outlines change, which could only mean they’d activated their hardpoints, ready for a fight.

The pair began to erratically sweep the field. Clearly, searching in wrecks was not their thing, as any good salvager or rescuer knows to systematically sweep the field. But all it would take was one ship’s headlight lighting up the only whole ship in the field & we’d be done for. I had to switch off everything, including the life-preserving shields, in order to run cool enough.

Date: June 22, 3302

Ending Balance: 86.3m

I shivered in the pilot’s seat, my body instinctively trying to keep itself warm against the chill in the cockpit. Ice froze to the Python’s canopy, leaving a brilliant clear fractal along the glass. I looked out over the darkened console & out into the depths of space, the holo of the chrono the only light in my otherwise dark ship. Ahead lay a large field of ship debris, occasionally flaring in the search lights of my pursuers.

Less than 18 hours previous, I was in a bar aboard Jameson Memorial & had just finished a day of aimless couriering. I’d hauled a large set of Evacuation Shelters to a nearby planet then several small data caches. Despite the enormous advances in computing & data transmission over the centuries, physical delivery was still sometimes the fastest (and untraceable) approach.

The bar was packed, with the latest pop hits blaring over the speakers. I thought about leaving, but it was one of the rare places in space that was able to make a Lavian Brandy Old Fashioned & I already had a tab. I grabbed my drink then search for a place to sit.

On the left side of the tastefully dimmed interior, toward the back, sat a lone commander staring intently at a holo. I wandered over to him, cleared my throat & asked if I could sit.

He startled & deactivated the holo, but not before I caught a glimpse of a jet black Cobra Mk III on it. “Aloha!” he greeted me in an old Earth-er tongue, “Please, be my guest.”.

“Thanks, your next one is on me.” I replied as I slid in in the low gravity & collapsed into the seat. “I’m Branch. And you are?”

“Call me Anderson,” he answered, then paused. He glanced at me with narrow eyes, tensed and asked in a low voice “This isn’t about the 3 missing Imperial slaves, is it? I assure you I have no...”

I laughed & held up two empty hands before grabbing my escaping drink. “I’m no-one’s hitman today & I have no clue what you’re talking about, though it already sounds like an intriguing story.” I flashed my Pilot’s Federation license & empty transaction list as proof.

He grinned & relaxed once more. “Let’s just say I found a new & better paying gig for those ladies aboard my Orca. The tourists love them & it’s a hell of a lot better than the asshole they were headed to. I’m sure you know how cargo can sometimes go missing & I paid him for the damages.”

“But you can never be to sure about old debts..” he trailed off & glanced once more at his tablet.

We sat in silence for a few moments in pregnant silence, sipping drinks & watching the people. Young couples moving lightly together to the beat, you standard fistfight brewing off to the other side of the room. When I could contain my curiosity no more, I broke the silence.

“You running from that black Cobra?” I asked, gesturing with my drink hand toward the tablet.

He blanched slightly, then regained his composure. “If we are going to speak of the Sorrow’s Mistress, I’ll need both your silence as well as taking you up on that drink.”

Once the waitress had dropped of his refill, Anderson leaned in, tapped his holo-tablet & the booth’s noise-suppression field activated. Immediately, the roar of the bar crowd faded to a murmur. He sat back, took a swig then turned his gaze on me seriously. “Have you ever heard of The Dark Wheel?” he asked gravely.

I shook my head. “Is that a ship?” I asked.

“If it were a ship & crew, they’d be much easier to escape from. No, the Dark Wheel is an organization of select Elite-ranked pilots. They deliberately keep a low profile and as far as I know, are completely apolitical. They are no one’s corporate hound. Their agenda is their own.” He paused, took another swig & continued.

“They have information & resources, things no other group has. They accept no contracts & are notoriously picky about who they will accept into their ranks. the ship you saw is, well, was mine until two days ago when I failed the task they’d given me.”

“You’re a member of the Dark Wheel?” I asked with eyebrows raised.

He shot me an odd look, then darted his eyes about the room. “Please be more careful, friend. Though the sound-proofing is active, lips can still be read.”

I started to apologize, but he waved me off. “Do not worry, I believe we are safe & my failure was quite public, if not entirely my fault. While on a smuggling run in Sorrow’s Mistress into Hutton Orbital, the cargo hatch’s safeties failed, causing the contents to spill less than 2km from the station’s landing pad.” He grinned sadly, “It’s not every day you splatter highly illegal goods across the entire width of a station in full view of the authorities.”

I chuckled & he brightened slightly before continuing.

“Anyhow, my... handlers... were not as amused as you or I. The authorities were given a... financial reason to forget what had happened, so no trouble came of that. I, however, am not so lucky. I’ve been grounded for the time being & getting the Mistress back depends on finding someone else, an unknown, to handle the next shipment.”

“If I fail, this may be my last hurrah.” He grimaced into his glass & downed the rest of it. The sad look was only there a moment longer, then his cheerful mask sprang up in its place. “But enough of my complaints, friend. I have said too much & bored you to tears.”

“No, not as much as you think.” I replied, a notion of a plan entering my head. “You said there’s another shipment to be made, yes? And I’d hate for those fine ladies aboard the Fine Country to be out of a job.” I smiled, then issued a simple “I’m in.”

Anderson sat up at this & looked at me with seemingly fresh eyes, “I don’t think I can ask or accept that of you, Branch. I hardly know you & your license said ‘Dangerous’, not ‘Elite’. I can guarantee my handlers would not approve...”

“My license doesn’t say ‘Duke’ or ‘Rear Admiral’ either, yet here I am. I’ve taken Elite ranked jobs, faced down Elite Anacondas & Fer-de-Lances & pushed myself & my ships far out of the Orion arm. I’m between jobs & relatively speaking, I’m a nobody. But I’m always willing to help another commander.” I grinned.

He sat back, deep in thought. He picked up his tablet, then glanced to me & said, “I need to inspect your ship, run some background checks & seek approval on this. If this works, next round & every round after are on me.”

An hour & several drinks later, we sat on the bridge of the Phantom berthed in dock, laughing over yet another terrible joke. The computer made a pinging noise & projected a holo of the final system diagnostic completed with greens across the board. Anderson sat back in the previously unused copilot seat & stared at me, rubbing his chin.

“My... handler... gave her approval, but insists on meeting you first. It also won’t be one job, but three relatively simple tasks as well. These are dangerous people, Branch. Once their hooks are in you, they will never let go.” He leaned in, all humor drained away. “Are you sure you’re willing to do this? I can find another or... well, plead for my...”

“I’m sure,” I cut him off. “I’ve been in need of some direction lately anyhow. And as a fellow Orca owner, how can I say ‘no’?”

With a grin, a holo of the ASV Oasis lit up on the dash. The grin that broke across Anderson’s face was wide & relieved.

“Then there is only one final thing. We must leave immediately, I just need about 30 minutes to collect my gear.”

I must have tensed when he said this, as he turned with an apologetic look. “Again, handler’s orders. I’m to quietly ride along & observe, to ensure all things go to plan. Is this a problem?”

“No problem, just never had any company before.” I said. “I’ll have the Phantom ready to go by the time you return.”

He nodded, then headed for the door. I turned back to the console, flicked the power-up sequence & requested clearance to leave within the hour. I rubbed the dash & said “Wake up, girl, it’s time to earn our dues.”

45 minutes later, I eased the Phantom out of the mailslot & selected “Neumann Camp” within the nav computer. Anderson nodded to me and, when we cleared the station, we began the countdown to supercruise.

Date: June 21, 3302

Ending Balance: 85.6M

Where to begin? Everything has changed & nothing has changed. I pursued the efforts with the Unknown Artifact & the independent science group The Canonn for several months. The UAs (as we eventually found many as a collective) began to orient themselves towards Merope in the Pleiades (as well as crudely scanning/transmitting outlines of ships). Toward the end of the year, I burnt out on the scientific work, just as new things colloquially called “Barnacles” were found in Merope.

Since then, I have increased my both Pilot’s Federation ranks all around (Dangerous in combat, Tycoon in trade, Ranger in exploration) as well as my ranks within both the Imperial & Federal Navies (Duke & Rear Admiral respectively). Whether the superpowers are aware of my duplicitous nature is unknown, but it has granted me access to the very largest & exclusive ships, the Imperial Cutter & Federal Corvette. Both are wonderful machines & are residing safely at home in Jameson Memorial.

In search of greater thrills, I’ve been a participant in an underground series of races with a group that refer to themselves as the “Elite Racers”. And there’s no denying that pushing ultra-lightweight Eagles around stations & canyons alike isn’t thrilling.

I’ve been a force for peace, supplying badly needed supplies & credits to stations/ports in need. And I’ve been a force for power & war, moving Imperial slaves (supposedly more of an indenture, but I have yet to see anyone ask the slaves themselves this) & striking a series of planetary targets with lethal force.

Now I find myself at a crossroads once again. I have a stable of ships I have enjoyed, I have many millions of credits, I have achieved stellar heights within the science & major factions. Yet, I find the emptiness forewarned by those who have truly done great things before, beyond the pale of what I have done.

I find myself back in my beloved Python, the Phantom. I had left her in dry dock for months, playing with other toys. But when I climbed the steps & stepped back inside her hull, it was as though I never left & many old, good feelings came rushing back. I ran my hand along the wood grain of her dash, settled into that familiar seat & we glided out of Jameson Memorial’s mailslot as though nothing had changed.

But rather than start jumping, we headed further out within the Shinrarta Dezhra system. On a tip from another commander at the bar, we headed to Neumann Camp on the far side of one of the distant ice balls.

Upon landing at the surface port, I was greeted by a rather stern woman in black. While she wouldn’t give me her name, she said she had some jobs available for commanders willing to take a few risks. “Succeed,” she said, “and you might curry the favor of... The Dark Wheel.”

Ending Balance: 25.5m

So, in keeping with my promise from last night, I'll be spending most of today parked and writing what I've seen & what I know about the object in my cargo hold. I'm carrying something so illegal, every system of human space would subject me fines & even being hunted if so much as one cargo scan makes its way back to the authorities.

Even the anarchy & pirate systems don't want me. So I've had to kill more than one errant ship who decided to cargo scan me. So far, I've stayed off the bounty lists, but I don't know how long I can cover my tracks.

The Unknown Artefact itself is the most bizarre thing I've ever carried in my cargo hold. I may go insane trying to plumb the depths of the mysteries it represents, but I'm compelled to try.

The artefact itself acts as if it were toxic cargo. It eats away at the modules of the Clarity almost constantly. I've had to equip two Auto-Field Maintenance Units to the Clarity, just to keep her flying & in good repair. I don't dare go into the hold myself, keeping it sealed as I don't know what it would do to me. I may be foolish for carting this thing (whom I've affectionately named "Benny") all over space, but even I'm not idiot enough to expose myself directly.

But what the Artefact does when it is released into space is almost magical. Most cargo canisters will simply drift, eventually being ripped apart by the vacuum when the invariably shoddy construction fails. A few, such as another ship's Black Box, will broadcast a simple signal requesting it be returned to the nearest station.

The Artefact though, it communicates. It's simple (though it took my fellow researchers, far smarter than I, more than a month to hear it), a warbling form of the ancient Morse communication. Our Nav Beacons, floating near every human-populated star system, also still broadcast using this. But where the nav beacons just blare out a single, simple-minded signal of the nearest star's name, the Artefact knows far more.

In every system of more than 100 I've taken it to, to countless planets & stations, it knows every name. If it has enough mass, the Artefact can tell you the human name of that body, be it star, planet or even our stations.

I've even taken it out of the bubble of human space, to systems I've never been to. Rather than honking my Advanced Discovery Scanner on entering the system, I slow to normal space & jettison the UA. And then I listen.

It sings to me.

First, with lights & a massive sound, almost like my disco scanner's honk. Then comes the warbling Morse, followed by a chitter marking the end of the Morse. The Artefact goes dark, then almost seems to purr to itself, as if pleased by its performance. Shortly, as if it has gathered its strength once again, it repeats.

All the while it performs its song, it seems to emit a gas which distorts & bends the light coming from behind it. Periodically, it puffs either a purple or green cloud, which dissipates quickly. And all around it, a flurry of small, bright blue particles tumble & weave about it before disappearing.

And despite my ship knowing nothing about the name of the main star or anything else in the system, the UA tells me the name. Fire the Discovery Scanner & upon completion, that same name, unknown to me or my ship before, appears on the HUD. The Artefact has not failed to identify anything correctly yet.

Unfortunately for "Benny", it can't seem to survive in a vacuum. From the moment it's out of my hold, it begins to degrade. If I left it for more than 6 minutes, it would explode. My fellow researchers have let several go, resulting in a haunting explosion each time.

So I scoop, carefully but deftly, as soon as the ship says 40% integrity. It recovers in my hold, perhaps from eating at my ship, to sing once again & tell me what lies out there.

===

This UA is the third I've carried. The previous two were lost to accidents involving other commanders. In the first, I had transferred to UA to another researcher for experimentation. I meant to switch ships, purpose-buying & building an Orca (designated the ASV Oasis) to carry it after its return, to give the Clarity a well-deserved rest. Unfortunately, another commander interdicted & destroyed that researcher's ship. He was recovered from the wreckage alive, but the UA was nowhere to be found.

The second also happened while trying to switch to the ASV Oasis as the research ship. I tried secretly swapping the Artefact with another researcher. Given it would take some time to retrieve the Oasis, I told him to scoop it... and watched in horror as he accidentally hit it with his ship. Despite the slow pace of his thrusters, his landing gear erroneously deployed, smashing the UA into his hull & shattering it into a puff of gas.

In... acquiring... a third Artefact, I have become the only CMDR known to do so. Most never encounter one, few have lived & recovered a single one. A single other CMDR has found two but was unable to hold them for long.

===

Hunting for an Unknown Artefact is less about looking for the object itself & more about stalking secret government convoys. They are rare to encounter, sometimes requiring days of searching to see even one. They seem to traffic certain systems, most prominently through Timocani.

"Recovering" an Unknown Artefact is a bit of a misnomer. It's less that you're finding or saving one & more that you're coaxing it out of the hold of a well-escorted Type-9's hold. With your lasers.

Needless to say, surviving/dodging a pair of Federal Anacondas anxious to see you dead while focusing your beam laser on the cargo hatch of a Type-9 flying away for their lives & presumably their jobs/rank is a... rather stressful & exciting experience.

I never thought I'd become a pirate (the scum my father & now I hunted), but when I met Dr. Arcanonn on that backwater station & saw the stories/requests for information about the Artefact go ignored, my malice for the Federation grew enough to try to get one for science. I console myself in that I have yet to earn any money from my thefts & that no lives/ships have been lost in the process. None at my hands anyway, as I can't imagine what those soldiers' superior officers would say/do.

Anyway, a "smash & grab" has been my approach each time, with a 100% rate of retrieval.

===

What the UA is & what is its purpose? This is the thought that has driven me for a month. The thought to which I still have no answers.

I've spent hundreds of thousands on repairs, traveled back & forth across human space (from Azaleach to Soontill & back) & visited dozens of major points of interest. How chuffed the major players would be if they knew this alien-looking object has floated above Earth, Capitol & Alioth's worlds. It's been in to all the major Old World hubs, through the Pilot Federation's tightly guarded home system of Shinrarta Dezhra & through the plague systems like BD-02 4304.

No matter where I take it, the answer is always different yet always the same, honks & Morse & chitters & purrs.

One day, I hope to find or help find those answers I seek.

Ending Balance: 15m

Sometimes, life takes you in unexpected directions. Every space-faring independent pilot knows this. Jobs coming from unlikely places, finding valuable salvage when you weren't looking, detours to avoid pirates/bounty hunters/police, beautiful stars & planets popping up in a field of dead stars.

Either you roll with it, or you miss it.

In this case, I had some opportunities crop up that I simply couldn't pass up. But in grabbing life by the reins, some things & people in my life fell to the wayside.

That hot bartender from the station in Diso? I barely said goodbye to her that morning, thinking I'd be back in her bunk when I returned later. I haven't been back & a short text message (not even a holo, what was I thinking?) apparently didn't sit too well with her.

I had to sacrifice a couple ships in the pursuit of ever-grander (& sometimes not-so grand) ships.

I had to drop a couple tons of precious cargo when the pirates were on me. I turned on them while they were distracted by scooping up my lost goods. The clients weren't happy I vaporized their goods in the pirates' hold, but a share of their bounty monies pleased most.

And my journal, my log & memoirs, suffered most. When all that's left of me is a black box floating in space, I want these thoughts & experiences to live on.

So let's play catch-up. And I can rid myself of these scribbled notes from the last two months...

===

Before I blather on about the minutia, here's the highlights:

Bought a brand-new Diamondback Scout (Defiant)

Explored 400 systems with it, including scoring first discovery on the bodies in V0376 Andromedae

Bought a brand new Imperial Courier (Clarity)

Earned Ensign rank with the Federation

Bought, flew & sold the remaining major ships (Orca, Diamondback Explorer, Adder, Type 7, Federal Dropship)

Purchased my own Anaconda, which I named the Avarice

Took the Clarity out hunting & found *THREE* Unknown Artefacts, more than any other known hunter (losing two of them to other commanders)

The ship "stable" looks completely different than it did since my last entry. I sold the ships I had & now have:

Avarice (Anaconda - trading & bounty hunting)

Clarity (Imperial Courier - odd jobs & UA hunting)

Defiant (Diamondback Scout - exploration)

ASV Oasis (Orca - Research & science vessel, under the guidance of Dr. Arcanonn)

===

Rather than try to recount everything, I'm just going to focus on the highlights. I'd fail to remember everything anyway, since more time has passed since my last entry than in all the days I journaled before it.

V0376 Andromedae

This one is huge to me. I had signed on with a big exploration project for the Sirius Corporation. I was trying to push myself, go further from human space than ever before & head to the Lagoon Nebula. Halfway there, near the edge of the arm of the galaxy & facing the great inky blackness in between, I got jumpy & decided to head back. I took a long route home & in the process, found myself in a big name system with no one's name on any of the bodies in it. Hard to believe, but no one had ever stopped in V0376 Andromedae, which is a shame because it's a gorgeous system. Two bright blue Class A stars & lots of other interesting bits. I scanned everything I could then rushed home. The first-discovered bonus + the rest of my data earned a payment so fat, I was able to buy a brand-new Imperial Courier & A-spec it outright.

All 20 major ships flown

Every ship that they'll sell new on the galactic showrooms has now been mine, including the dreaded Anaconda. That Courier I bought with my expo credits has paid for itself several times over. It helped my get my Federal rank up to Ensign (hilarious in itself, completing Fed tasks in an Empire ship), enabling me to purchase a Federal Dropship as the last ship. Most, like the Adder / Type-7 / Dropship, I'd never willingly fly ever again (terrible bricks, one & all). But given my family's humble means, I accomplished something I could only dream of as a child. Which leads me to...

The Avarice

The Faulcon de Lacey Anaconda, the biggest & baddest "freighter" in the galaxy & the largest combat ship a private pilot can own, is mine. And the power trip that is sitting on the bridge, hearing the ship's voice actually echo around you, the roar of 8 lasers flashing out & reducing pirates to wreckage. It's no wonder so many pilots covet this ship.

Sure, she's a bit of a boat. But flying smartly (toggle that Flight Assist Off to bring her around) plus including 4 turreted pulse lasers in my loadout makes even the most nimble ships fear me.

Add in that massive cargo hold (second only to the Type-9) as well as the ability to maneuver in/out of dock far faster. The trading profits I've made fit her name (which is a synonym for "greed") very, VERY well.

It was a little sad to part with the Phantom (my beloved Python) & to sell the other ships, but I promised myself I'd hunt them back down & buy back someday, provided they were still in one piece.

===

The last big thing, the Unknown Artefact, will have to wait until tomorrow. There's simply too much to say about the last 26 days to finish before I crash in my bunk tonight.

Ending balance: 33.5m

Down to 28m credits after ridding myself of the Typhoid & getting the Phantom back, I decided to hit up GalNet for the latest news. Amongst the normal politics, the small system of Wolf 406 had put a call out to pilots, looking for the delivery of metals. It seems they’d made a deal with Lakon to produce the new Diamondback ship there, but Lakon had demanded an advanced timetable late in negotiations.

I’d first heard of the Diamondback a couple weeks back. A bar for pilots in one of the backwater systems I’d hunted for the Unknown Artefact in had a holo up for it. The image was grainy, but boasted a brand-new combat/explorer ship at a reasonable price. I was taken by the shape, but wanted to see one in-person.

Having learned my lesson from the Typhoid, I decided to build up my credit stockpile in anticipation of the Diamondback’s general availability. That way, I could keep the Phantom & just stow it while getting to try something new. I’ve been itching to go exploring again & am curious what it can do.

I made my way to Wolf 406 & signed on. The nearby system of Cupinook was a single hop away, even fully loaded, and they had an excellent selection of metals to bring back to the market on Hamilton Gateway. Within a day, I noticed a big spike in pirate activity, but none dared interdict me in my Python. I patted the Phantom’s dash affectionately, so very happy to have her back.

Ending Balance: 30.5m

Having nothing better to do, I decided to do a bit of trading. Between the UA hunt & getting the permits, operating the Phantom had cost me a fair amount of change (almost 1m credits in the end). It was time to earn some money back.

I ran a pretty standard route for the first two days, spiking my balance to 31m credits. As I sat back from what seemed like the thousandth trip of the day, I mulled over how much better I could do in profits if I had a bigger hold. I then realized I had enough to afford a basic Lakon Type-9, if I traded in the Phantom.

One of my standing goals is to fly all the major ships out there. I’ve only missed the Adder, the Type-7, the Orca & the Federal Dropship thus far, so I decided to give the Type-9 a shot. I sadly parted with the Phantom at the shipyard & looked at my new ship.

The Type-9 is referred to as the SpaceCow, even by those who love it. Its massive 500t+ hold earns legendary profits & many an Anaconda pilot have told me the T9 got them there. I bought it without requesting a test flight & was soon on my way.

The name came easily: The Typhoid. Named after a horrible ancient disease, which struck when humanity only lived on Sol, it was very apt for this flying brick. The Typhoid accelerated terribly & handled even worse. To an extent, trading in it was kinda zen, but mostly infuriating. Despite nearly being the size of the mailslot, I didn’t find docking to be difficult, but everything else was ponderous. And the jump range was utter rubbish. Even with a B FSD, a meager 10Ly was all the hulking beast could manage while laden.

The profits were good (600k per trip), but my anger only grew with each passing moment. I convinced myself I’d sleep on it, but by morning, I’d had enough. I flew back to the starport I’d bought it from & traded it straight back in. If that was the path to an Anaconda & A-fitted ships, I’d settle for what I had instead.

Ending balance: 26m

Not a lot to say here. Sirius was massive & impressive, worth the time spent getting the permit just to see it.

Ending balance: 26m

After the relative quiet & frustration of the previous days’ hunting, I needed a little action & something different to do. Since becoming triple allied, I had gotten access to both Sol (Federal home system) & Achenar (Empire home system), but did not have access to Alioth (Alliance home system). I decided to try for that.

I went to 78 Ursae Majoris, a nearby system to Alioth. All it took was getting allied (some light trading & odd jobs) & within a couple hours, I was granted the permit.

While I was getting permits, I decided I also wanted the one for the Sirius system. Sirius (the Dog Star) is one of the largest stars in the Milky Way, as well as home to the oldest corporate-owned system.

This proved harder than I expected. After working on it in a nearby system for a couple days & not getting much of anywhere, I got the tip that the Sirius Corporation had a colony going up in the distant Te Kaha system (160Ly away). I loaded up on goods & made the trek out.

Ending balance: 27m

Going to be brief, as I want to get my ship’s log caught up from the last several weeks. I spent 6 days searching the black (with others), hunting for an Unknown Artefact. I wasn’t the one to find or acquire it, despite spending a couple days in Peregrina & a couple more in Timocani. I found some suspicious convoys (Federal Navy moving a single ton of Hafnium 178) & lots of derelict wreckage surrounding other illegal/rare cargo, but no Artefact.

Ending Balance: 26.4m

After spending the night sleeping at the edges of the Sol system, I woke late the next morning. Since I had nothing else planned, I checked the pilot’s network while my coffee brewed & the Phantom woke back up.

The usual reports of wars, politics & system bounties were all present. Nothing interesting. Next I checked the pilots’ forum, a place that’s a little less journalistic than GalNet & popular among... less savory types. As I was browsing & listening to the hum of the ship, a post caught my eye. Allegedly, some pilot was saying he’d been hired to do salvage work on the fringes & found an Unknown Artefact in a small backwater system. He claimed it made strange sounds, very different from the background noise present in lots of usual cargo. He also claimed he asked the buyer about it, but they just cut him off, paid him & took the cargo away. He was asking if any other pilots had experience with things like this.

At first, I thought he was just crazy & space madness had gotten to him. Or perhaps his ship’s background radio was glitched. But I looked up his forum rep & past posts: nothing crazy or odd before this. When I made it back, one other pilot claimed he’d seen that kind of cargo before, in a system called Peregrina. He’d been too startled to scoop it & had just jumped away as fast as possible.

Then things got more interesting. I hit up the galaxy map to get information on Peregrina. Instead of a system map, I got two red words: “Permit Required”. Strange, most systems don’t require permits unless they’re political (Sol, Achenar, Alioth) or military hubs (Faerce & Sirius). And especially not on the fringes, like this system (almost 200Ly out).

I’m not putting much stock in the story, but if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s not being able to visit a system. So I targeted a system nearby Peregrina (HIP 18609) & plotted a course. When the nav computer happily chirped that the whole trip could be made on a half tank of fuel, I was sold & started jumping.

We made the trip in just under an hour, not too shabby at all. The HIP 18609 system wasn’t much to behold. But when I scanned the stations (specifically Kessel Legacy, a small outpost), it claimed the main faction was “Peregrina Authority”. Very interesting.

After docking, I started chatting up some of the locals working at the outpost. At the tiny pub, a local pilot let it slip that by becoming allied with the Peregrina Authority, one could get a permit to Peregrina itself.